


No Good Way

by Loverlylo



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Derek is hella proud of Casey's porn, F/M, Lack of Communication, NHL Derek, Porn Star Casey, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, no beta we die like men, not an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverlylo/pseuds/Loverlylo
Summary: Derek is very aware that there is no good way to say "That's my stepsister. She does porn."
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 96





	No Good Way

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started off fluffy and hilarious, the porn just exploded out of nowhere.

There is no good way to say “That’s my step-sister. She does porn.”

Derek Venturi is certain of this, because he’s spent years trying to find exactly that sentence, and has yet to succeed. Any time step-relations and porn are in the same sentence, it automatically sounds skeevy. People make dumbass jokes. People say nasty stuff. People assume that you and your step-sister hooked up and make endless  _ Clueless _ chirps, even though Derek thinks that just knowing enough to make those chirps is chirp-worthy in it’s own right. 

Honestly, a huge part of the issue is that Casey and he would both say they have four siblings. Edwin, Lizzie, Martie, and Simon are claimed by both, but the two of them have never been siblings. Acquaintances in high school, friends after they both ended up in LA, not knowing anyone outside work, but Derek has never thought of Casey as a sister, and that’s mutual. 

And he wants to be clear: he has never judged Casey, or Amélie De Luraé as she’s known professionally, for her choices. Hell, if anything, he respects them. From bit player to star to studio owner in 10 years is impressive. Toss in her activism-- destigmatizing sex work, improving regulations and oversight to reduce traffiking, shit like that-- and he always feels like he comes up short next to her. Sure, he was drafted second round, has been the face of the LA Kings for six years, and makes a cool 9 mil annually, but he still plays a game for a living. Casey opened her own studio to make high-end erotic films, to prove that pornography and feminism can not only co-exist, but florish side-by-side.

And unfortunately, her success and their lack of sibling bond are the cause of Derek’s current predicament. She’d been nominated for several awards by the International Pornographers Association, and her boyfriend had proven himself to be unfaithful slime two days before the ceremony. So, Derek did what any decent guy would do and offered himself as arm candy. Casey rocked the #girlboss vibe, bagged several awards, made it clear just how replaceable Trenton was, and Derek got free shrimp. Everybody won.

Only now, he’d been dragged into a meeting with his coach, team owner, and what looks like the entire PR department, publicity photos from the awards all over the table. Looking them over, Derek thinks he played the role of Amélie De Luraé’s latest boy toy pretty well-- in every shot, he’s either draped over her, holding her things while she networks, or just looking at her with little heart eyes. Of course, that probably won’t help right now. 

Finally, Coach Henslow sighs and gestures at the photos. “Just . . . what the hell, Venturi?”

Derek shrugged, hoping to put off the inevitable. “She needed a date and I had a tux. Besides, who wouldn’t want to hang off Amélie De Luraé’s arm?”

Henslow rolled his eyes, but gave a “that’s fair” gesture. One of the PR minions disagreed. “You are captain of the LA Kings and she makes porn. This is not acceptable for someone of your calibre. How do you even know someone like  _ that _ ?”

Derek glared. “I don’t remember anyone complaining when she was my date to the NHL awards last year. In fact, I do recall a few comments about improving the league’s image by associating with someone so outspokenly feminist. As for how I know her--” he cut himself off, steeling himself for the inevitable looks of curiosity and inappropriate questions. 

“-- Our parents used to date.” Derek is stunned by what he said, and yet, he can see a light at the end of the tunnel. “For a few months in high school. We knew each other but we weren't friends. She went to college, I got drafted to Edmonton, three years later we ended up on the same flight to LA, we started talking and here we are.” All technically true. “And one more thing? Porn is whatever, and the people who make it are not dirty or diseased or lesser. Ca-Amélie owns her own business, volunteers in the community, has won several awards, and in five years will probably make more than I do. I don’t want to hear another word against her.”

He gave everyone the middle finger as he left.

* * *

He knew shit had hit the fan when he was greeted by Quiet Casey. Loud Casey was fine, he could handle that until she vented her rage enough to calm down and deal with things like a grown-up. But Quiet Casey meant someone was going to die, usually him.

She was in her favorite spot for reviewing auditions clips- sprawled out on the couch, in sweats and a messy bun. She claimed that getting into the mindset of porn-watching helped her evaluate, but Derek suspected the truth was just that their couch was ridiculously comfy. “Random question: why did I get a call from the LA Kings wanting to work out a joint statement about our romantic relationship? If we wanted to go “no comment” and wait until things were more settled between us, or go the just friends route, because they have one for each.”

Derek was utterly thrown for a moment, then had a horrifying realization about the things he said, or didn’t say, in that meeting. “So, management got their panties in a knot about me being seen with a porn star, and I was so up in arms defending you and your profession that I think I may have left something important out. Actually, two things, but one was on purpose.”

Twenty minutes and seven “Der-EK’s” later, he’d collapsed onto their couch while Casey raged at him for being so dense as to forget to tell his management that they weren’t dating. “What on earth are we going to do now?” She dropped next to him and rubbed her face on his shoulder, ignoring the general post-practice miasma. “I was looking online. People finally noticed how ‘similar’-- she gave air quotes here, like she was 15 all over again-- “our houses are. How I switched from the Oilers to the Kings right when you got traded. That I wear a Venturi jersey, not a generic one. And like you’ve always said, there’s no good way to explain step-family and porn.”

He chucked and tucked her further into his side. “So, maybe we date.” As Casey started to pull away, he yanked her back to him. “Casey, we own a house together.”

She glared at him. “Because we both travel so much.”

He gripped one of her thighs and straddled her across his lap. “And a business.”

“You needed to invest, I needed an investor.” Casey looked down at him, her warm brown eyes full of icy resolve that entranced horny idiots by the million.

Resolve that started to melt when he unzipped her hoodie, revealing that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it except her nipple rings. “We’re each other’s emergency contact.”

“Only family in,” she gave a sharp inhale as Derek sank his teeth into her neck and bit like a vampire, a zombie, and a possessive asshole rolled into one. “Los Angeles  _ shit _ , I have a shoot tomorrow!”

Derek dragged his teeth down to her tit and immediately began tonguing at the silver ring-- with a black gemstone, obviously-- before lifting his head. “We’ve somehow managed to never cheat, which is a goddamn miracle. Because every time we’re single at the same time, we end up like this.” He slid his hands lower, to her deliciously pert ass and squeezed. “And I don’t mean fucking, I mean everything. Movie nights and sharing takeout and bubble baths.”

She stroked her hand through his hair, giving the short, sharp tugs he liked best before reaching between them to undo his belt. “You love bubble baths.”

“I love you.” The belt clattered to the floor, the hardwood saved only by her discarded sweatshirt, as Casey’s gaze met his. Thirteen years of sharing a set of parents, ten of grudging friendliness concealing hookups, and seven of on-again, get off-again, pseudo-relationship-while-building-lives bullshit, and they’d never said those words. “I love you, Casey McDonald. I love the anal-retentive nerd and the sexy erotic film actress and and the ball-busting CEO. And fuck dating, if we weren’t step-siblings, we’d be married. At least, I’d have asked.”

Casey stood up, and Derek moved to follow her, but it turns out she was just ditching her sweatpants. Nothing under them, either. He stripped of his t-shirt and shucked his own jeans, not caring about the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed their den. Actually, he took that back. As he stared at Casey’s perfect body, nipple rings glinting and the discreet 15 tattoo on her upper thigh darting in and out of the sunlight that set her aglow, he cared very much.

Without a word, Casey jumped and he caught her, bringing her down and impaling her onto his cock while she wrapped her legs around his waist in a single, fluid motion. They stayed like that, Casey speared onto his cock, his arms running up her back, one of hers around his shoulders and the other fingering the chain he wore his Cup ring on, eyes locked but silent, and looking for all the world like a very avant-garde statue for who knows how long. To Derek, it could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was Casey. The strands of her hair brushing along his arms. The tug on his necklace. The tight, silken heat of her cunt around his cock. The way she’d squeeze every now and then, making Derek’s breath catch and knees buckle; just a little. But mostly her eyes, and she met his, and every conversation they’d never had took place, completely unspoken. His job. Her ambition. Their family. And how little they cared about any of that. 

She leaned down and whispered so quietly Derek felt more than heard her. “How?” She breathed out, practically crushing his dick with the vice-like clench she had his dick in. Derek’s vision went white.

He gave a sharp curse, then dropped them backwards onto their couch. The impact thrust him balls deep into her, and Casey gave a choked out moan and the sudden thrust. Derek grabbed her hair and twined it around his hand, angling her head backwards so he could bite at her jugular in between words. “Center ice. Home opener. After the cup.” He pulled back to meet her eyes before tilting her head and sucking right below her other ear. He worked his teeth into her, savoring the moans of delight and little flutters of her cunt as he did so. “Would have brought you out,”-- another kiss-- “dropped to one knee,”-- a firm suck-- “pulled my championship ring off the chain and offered it to you.” He hooked both his thumbs into her nipple rings and tugged sharply.

At Casey’s gasping cry of “I’d have said yes!” the last tenuous strand of Derek’s control snapped. He pushed forward and put Casey on the floor, taking care to cushion her head before thrusting into her. It was hard and rough, but she loved it like that, and Derek knew just how to tilt her hip to ensure he’d hit her g-spot. One of her hands was scrabbling for purchase above her head. He grabbed the other and pulled it to his mouth, laving her thumb with spit before nipping it with his teeth and dropping it between them. Casey rubbed at her clit, coming with a cry so loud Derek was amazed the windows didn’t shatter. At least, for two seconds before he followed her with a guttural groan.

He slumped forward, having just enough brain cells to fall to the left of Casey. He pulled her to him, helped by the fact that they were still joined. She gave him a small kiss on the shoulder. “We need a shower. And to clean the sofa.”

“Later.” Derek groaned out. “First, I need to find out where I can get an NHL championship ring resized. You’re not wearing this around your neck.” He slipped the ring off his chain and put it around her thumb, sucking her juices off as he did so. “Want it where everyone can see it.”

“Caveman.” Casey mumbled into his chest, nuzzling into him like a cat taking a sunbath. “We’re gonna get shit over this until the day we die.”

Derek kissed the top of her head. “Don’t care. You’re fucking worth it.”

* * *

The next day, Derek headed into the locker room and ignored the catcalls that started the moment he took off his shirt. He and Casey had quite the night celebrating their engagement. 

Carter let out a slow whistle. “Jesus, Venturi, you look like a scratching post. De Luraé must be one hellion in the sack.”

Derek shot him a glare. “Fuck off, man. That’s my fiancé you’re talking about.”

Murmurs broke out behind him as the team processed his words. Carter held up his hand for a high five. “A decade of serial monogamy and hookups with the hottest women in LA, only to be broken by a porn star. Congrats, man. Amélie De Luraé, Christ.”

He rolled his eyes at Carter’s juvenile antics. The kid was 21, just out of the AHL. He was still in awe of the flash and money; hadn’t yet learned about adult relationships. “I’m not marrying Amélie De Luraé. That’s a persona who exists solely to titillate idiot men, which is why everyone here knows her. I’m marrying Casey McDonald.”

A moment of quiet as the team absorbed that their playboy captain was getting married to a porn star, and apparently took her job seriously. Then Wright, one of his As, spoke hesitantly. “I might be wrong, man, but, isn’t Casey McDonald one of your stepsisters?”

No, there was no good way to say “That’s my stepsister. She does porn.” and even fewer to explain you were going to marry her. But as Derek remembered the previous night, the wild sex and the long soak in the tub after, than an obligatory rewatch of  _ Clueless _ , he found he didn’t give a single fuck. “Yeah, she is. And she’s amazing.”


End file.
